this rain
by tokkas
Summary: "I'll be fine," she says again with a smile. "Besides," she adds, with a small, forced chuckle (it's too strained, too weak), "this happens to me a lot, haven't you noticed?" Only it's different this time.


**A/N: **whoa, so I haven't posted or written anything in the longest time. welp. I hope it's not too bad or embarrassing (because believe me, I do that quite a lot.) this oneshot takes place post tmoa, and it's set in a (rather ambiguous) battle against gaea's minions. be forewarned for character death and such.

song: a little fall of rain from les mis

* * *

_i don't feel any pain_

_a little fall of rain_

_can hardly hurt me now_

Tears fall from the dark clouds and scatter on the red, red grass. The hills are covered in blood and death, hills made of monsters and half-bloods, of villains and heroes.

There are lives shattered on the ground, heroes fallen to their doom as giants and monsters rage around them, the world in utter chaos.

There's a group of soldiers, fighting on. In their hands, they brandish swords and daggers as they fight a foe too formidable to defeat, and so they _fall_.

The sky is crying.

Rain rolls from the clouds, lands on the red ground, and washes away the blood, but the scars remain. They fall, one by one, life by life, and the wisps of their souls stumble out of their bodies and find their way home. But somehow, they hold the giants back, all the monsters and minions of Gaea.

There's too much death,

Yet they march on.

Hundreds fall, so many youths, young souls who had never lived; they all die on the ground, watching the world burn before their eyes as they fade.

And then two more.

They fight, side by side, a blonde girl and a boy with eyes as striking as the sea. Back to back, they lunge and jab, cover each other, and flow together.

They're tired. It's been too much, but they push and fight on, a fierce determination in their eyes as they heroically fight to the last minute.

There's a chink in her armor.

The arrow pierces her through the side, straight into her stomach, and she lets out a cry of pain, falling to the ground and clutching her side.

He's alone now, fighting a monster that he can barely touch. When he sees her blonde curls sprawled on the ground, a sudden rush of adrenaline courses through his veins, of anger and frustration, and he slashes down, blade meeting monster. It disintegrates, and he falls to the ground next to her. When he looks up, he meets the eyes of the electric-eyed boy with blonde hair, and he looks desperately at him.

_Go_, the boy mouths, and Percy, not missing a beat, scoops up the body and runs to the asylum in the trees.

"Oh gods, gods, no," he whispers as his feet pound on the ground and he holds her body and scans the area around them for any of those monsters. "No, no, no," he croaks over and over. There's red, so much red; there's death, too much, and he's facing it and no this can't be happening-

She's fading.

Two children lie on the ground. The image is eerily similar to a time so long ago: a girl, a poisoned knife, and a fallen hero.

_You're cute when you're worried_, she had said.

He's worried, alright.

_you will live a hundred years if i could show you how_

_i won't desert you now_

She's falling, fast.

He tries to save her, applies pressure, oh gods, the blood just won't fucking stop-

"Percy," she whispers. She's weak, and the storm in her piercing grey eyes is fading, almost gone. She doesn't see him; her eyes are far away.

"It's okay," she repeats, over and over, her voice shaking as she tries not to cry. She clutches his hand, covered in an angry red, and holds on for dear life, struggling to stay with him.

"I'll be fine," she says again with a smile. "Besides," she adds, with a small, forced chuckle (it's too strained, too weak), "this happens to me a lot, haven't you noticed?"  
Only it's different this time.

This time, it's an injury beyond repair. There's no one to help them now; it's just them and the woods and a war. This time, he's holding a dying body in his trembling arms. The tears are falling freely now; his face is wet with the hopes of the lost years ahead of them, his hands stained with the reality to come.

"Wait for me," he finally chokes out through his ragged tears. He has no other words; he can only hold her and watch as the world crumbles into ashes around them.

"I'd wait forever," she mumbles. "I promised you before that I'd come back to you, Seaweed Brain."

"I'll see you soon," she whispers to him in the end. He parts his lips to say a final goodbye, but by the time the words try to stumble out, they die at his mouth, and she's walked away from him, to a new world and into the stars.

_the rain can't hurt me now_

When the reality hits him, he falls apart as she leaves him for the very last time.

He shakes her, but her eyes are glassy and her hands are cold and she's not there anymore and she's not breathing oh gods why is she gone-

"NO!" he yells out, shouting at the sky, shouting at the gods, damn it, it's just too much.

"Why did you have to take her?" he screams through his gasping sobs.

The scene: a lone boy in a battlefield of woe, a meadow of death, hidden in the trees. So many of his friends have fallen around him, and yet the fight goes on and on.

So does the rain. It's coming down harder now, the droplets of water beating the life out of the ground.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry." He holds her limp body and brings it close, but there's no breathing, and her eyes are so, so cold.

And so he plants a kiss, a final farewell, closes her eyes, and lets her rest.

* * *

He fights for her.

He and those remaining slay the monsters, and the enemy falls, slowly. And it seems like they've won. (did they?)

The battle blazes around him as the rain beats down, pitter pattering on a field of woe.

So many gone, so many fallen. Bodies litter the ground, scattered over the field. It seems the sky is crying for them, for the children.

He can't get the image of her dying body out of his head. There's too much red, there's no breathing, she's dead, she's gone, she's never coming back ever again, gone, gone, gone.

They started with two hundred.

They now have ninety.

It takes days to dig the graves, and it's raining nonstop. It clings to their bodies, cleans the bloody wounds of the dead, and washes away the tears that stain the children's hearts.

When they lay the bodies side by side, he doesn't look. None of them want to; they were friends, family. They were loved, and then torn away- lost lives, lost loves, lost hearts.

They try to carry on.

* * *

They return to camp, bruised, bloody, beaten, but_ alive._ (are they, really?)

The week after they come back, they have a ceremony for the deceased to celebrate their lives; they burn the shrouds and watch as the bonfire climbs into the darkness of the night and dances around the shrouds, burning the pain and the grief.

The pain won't stop, though. Not a single eye is dry in the ampitheater tonight.

He's the one to throw her shroud into the fire.

"Annabeth Chase," he begins, his voice cracking as he speaks, "is a hero. She's my best friend, and she's one of the bravest-"

He can barely get through his first few words before he falls apart. There's too much to say, and there's not enough time, not enough time to just tell her that he loves her one last time and how she changed him and goddamnit, _why_ did they have to take her?

"I loved her," he finally chokes out through his ragged breathing. "I love her, and I will never stop." He's whispering now, and it's inaudible to everyone in the ampitheater. Everyone is silent as they watch the boy who saved Olympus break down in front of them; they watch the boy who seemed so strong become so weak.

"To Annabeth," he says at last, and throws the shroud in the fire, watching it as it's eaten up by the unyielding flames.

_this rain will wash away what's past_

It's raining again, a small drizzle that mixes with the tears on their faces and tries to wipe away all the hurt and anger but the pain just _won't stop_.

When the ceremony ends, they all think that maybe it's for the better.

There's been too much grieving lately, anyway.

As the rain grows stronger, the bonfire starts to die, until only the ashes and memories remain.

* * *

_one year_

He sees her everywhere he goes.

She's there at the camp, in the arena, lunging and parrying with him. (he's alone.)

She's that curly-haired blonde in the supermarket; she's the stormy-eyed girl that he meets in that coffee shop near the apartment.

But she's gone.

Some nights, before he falls into dreams, he takes her old necklace and runs his fingers over the beads, and smiles sadly as he sees the ones with the trident, the pine tree, the maze, and the latest, a bead with the Empire State building on it.

They fought so many battles and struggled together. She was his constant; he always had her.

He has to fight his battles alone now.

_two years_

He's starting to heal, but he still feels her touch at night, and he still hears her voice when he wakes up some mornings.

_Get up, Seaweed Brain, you lazy ass._

No one calls him that anymore.

Sometimes, he's okay—he'll even get his mind off his grief in some instances.

Other times, he's a mess.

He still keeps her bead necklace close to his, tucked away in a draw in his cabin. He doesn't look at it anymore, though. It only reminds him that she's _not there_.

_four years_

He's twenty-one. He has a college degree, a job, a somewhat nice apartment in New York, and continues to be a counselor at the camp.

But he's alone, because he doesn't have her.

Sometimes he sits in Central Park and sees the couples walk by with their children, and he wonders:

_Would that have been us?_

A life flashes before him, a world full of happiness and _her_, where they fall in love every day over and over like it's the first time, where they laugh and make up stupid traditions and live a life as one. It pains him too much to think about it, and so he'll leave and carry on with his life, however hard it may be.

Yet somehow, the sun still shines after the rain.

_five years_

He's wounded on the battlefield.

An army of monsters make their way through the border of Camp-Half blood, and he's struck down by a spear. He falls to the ground, his blood falling onto the green meadows, and it's just like a rainy day five years before, but this time, he's alone.

When the battle is over, he's found, weak and dying, and they carry him away to the Big House.

For the first time, the clouds of Camp Half-Blood cry and wash the blood out of the ground, carrying the pain away.

He can barely hear the voices around him, asking if he's alright. He just nods, and gives a small, pained smile, and whispers that it'll be okay. He's fine.

He knows he's fading, and he's perfectly okay with it, because he can hear her voice again.

_As long as we're together._

And so he closes his eyes, and lets himself fall into the darkness.

* * *

When he opens them again, he's standing in a meadow. It's spring, and the flowers are blooming; birds are chirping in the air, singing sweetly and softly. He has no idea where he is, but it seems familiar, and comforting, in a way. He doesn't know where he's going, but he walks forward, and sees a figure in the distance. He doesn't know who it is, but he knows that they're waiting for him.

Standing there is a tall boy with blonde hair and a scar next to his eye, with a soft smile on his face.

"Come on," he says, his blue eyes brighter than they've ever been for the longest time. "She's waiting for you."

(the sun is shining oh so bright above for once)

They walk across the field together, the grass rustling at their ankles. The meadow is dotted red, sprinkled with growing flowers and life, thriving in the paradise. In the golden sunlight, he spots the silhouette of a girl, her back turned towards the distant horizon.

When grey eyes meet green, they run towards each other, the overwhelming pain of five years apart shattering to pieces as they embrace.

"I waited," she whispers softly to him. They hold each other and both their eyes glisten with tears, of regret and happiness, of loss and love. But in each other's arms, the world seems to be just alright.

Above, in a world of the living and the mourning, the stars come out at night. There's a new constellation in the east, of a girl and boy, of a love immortalized in the sky.

_and rain will make the flowers grow_


End file.
